


Favorite

by VelvetNeedsToRant



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: But humans need appreciation too, But not about any significant character, ENJOY IT, F/M, Fluff, I needed a plot device, Megsie's whipped, Mention of Death, Mention of sex, Most characters are only mentioned tbh, Slightly detailed, Yes alien robots are hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2019-01-01 02:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12146244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VelvetNeedsToRant/pseuds/VelvetNeedsToRant
Summary: Megatron's little human lover smiles a lot. He finds that he really likes that.





	Favorite

**Author's Note:**

> So I did a thing. This is the thing.

****

Megatron isn’t surprised when he admits to himself that he adores his lover’s smiles. They’re all very different, but all so very lovely. On their lonesome, your smiles are already quite charming, but when framed by your beautiful face -- cute nose and sparkling eyes and blushing cheeks -- they awake within him the overwhelming need to touch and kiss and trace with masterful glossa and dentae. He also notices you do a lot of it, and Megatron musters up enough intent to ask you why. You answer that he does not do it nearly enough, and so you must smile for the both of you. He wants to convey his appreciation, and settles for spinning lyrical poems that you might just never see. But, curious and determined as you are, he knows you’d come to discover them out of perhaps nothing but sheer force of will.

 

The threat of your inevitable knowledge of his poetry looms in the horizon, but he doesn’t find himself discouraged. Instead, it only prompts Megatron to write more, as his spark had suddenly decided to become a maelstrom of confusion and exhilaration whenever faced with the mere thought of the small human who’d become so dear to him so quickly. And for once, he doesn’t fight his spark’s will. 

 

Megatron writes of his lover’s smiles, for what else would inspire him so?

 

He writes of your smile when you first met. Your expression was almost haughty and your posture was visibly stiff and nearly unfriendly. You looked unshakable, and you’d later confess to him that you’d been horrifically nervous, but also firm in your decision to disallow the Cybertronians to intimidate you. When you were introduced, your eyes were bright and filled with conviction, contradicted by the shy upward twist of your lips and your quiet giggles. He hadn’t thought much of you back then, soft and small and so dreadfully  _ organic _ as you were, but eventually he’d come to treasure that smile as he treasured all the others.

 

He writes of your smile when you first held a proper conversation. He’d made a passing remark about Rodimus’ leadership and you’d snorted loudly, before slapping a hand over your mouth and flushing swiftly in fear of the repercussions that could come with your possible misstep. Tentatively, you began talking, and while Megatron would love to say it was smooth and easy, it was quite the opposite. Awkward and cautious and unsure, you had both made total messes of yourselves, but by the end of your interaction, his darling human bore a small smile; detached and guarded but still quite  _ there _ , much like your budding relationship.

 

He writes about your smile when Swerve managed to acquire human alcoholic beverages and you indulged much more than you should’ve. Chugging down one of the drinks as if it were your lifeline, you chatted with Megatron more amiably than you would’ve had you been sober. He risked a few snarky comments towards the ship and its residents, then a few choice words about Optimus Prime, and it wasn’t long before his then-acquaintance was howling in laughter, grinning broadly and lopsidedly with unfocused eyes and red cheeks. You soon settled down, and confessed towards being slightly homesick and missing Earth. You bonded over your shared love for your native planets, and Megatron was admittedly pleased when you later told him the memory had survived the following hangover.

 

He also writes of your smile when he showed you his poetry from before the war. He’d showed the writings to you once you’d been friends for a while, yet he still partially expected you to roll your eyes or laugh. Instead, you read through them with attentive eyes and furrowed eyebrows and cutely pursed lips and it was the first time Megatron realized you were beautiful. You were undeniably small and undeniably organic and, yes, undeniably beautiful, and were made even more so when you looked up at him with those lovely eyes wide and those enticing lips parted in quiet awe as you softly whispered, “You write masterpieces.” 

 

He writes of your smile when he finally confessed his feelings. His day had been a trainwreck and he hadn’t wanted to dwell on it any further, dismissing Ultra Magnus’ concern and Rung’s small ping suggesting he book an appointment and Rodimus’ endless chattering all at once. He arrived to his habsuite wanting peace and quiet, but when his human pinned him with that knowing gaze, the words spilled from him faster than he could stop them. Megatron ranted about the war and his punishment and his exhaustion and his loneliness and eventually he bitterly admitted to his feelings, and while some distant part of him stared at himself in horror, the most prominent part of him simply basked in the glow of his lover’s beaming face and earnest declaration of mutuality. 

 

Megatron writes of his lover’s smile when you defended his honor. Some overcharged mechs had wanted to start a fight, and while Megatron himself wasn’t particularly inclined to oblige, his feisty little human was quite the opposite. With your eyes narrowed and your lips pulled tightly into a thin and unsympathetic smile, you initially warded off the mechs with polite words veiling layered animosity. When that proved to be insufficient, you stood up despite Megatron’s protests and delivered a lecture worthy of Ultra Magnus, only with much more cursing and much more threatening. When you finished, the bar -- which had gone silent somewhere in the middle of your frankly  _ spectacular _ display -- erupted in applause and you turned towards Megatron with gleaming eyes and a proud grin that stretched from ear to ear.

 

Unable to help himself, Megatron writes of your smile when you’re alone in the habsuite you came to share, being intimate for the first time. He writes of your sly grin and glittering eyes as you slide two of your nimble fingers inside his sopping valve, thrusting them only three times before taking them into your mouth and closing those delicious lips around them as you moan. He writes of your slumped form cuddled close to him, eyes glossy and hooded and smile delirious as you come down from the high of the overload he so mercifully granted you, and writes of your shy smile and flushed cheeks and hair pasted to your forehead with sweat after you’ve exhausted yourselves enough for the night. 

 

But then, he also writes of your smile after it was replaced with a frown. You’d received news of your best friend’s death on Earth, and you’d elected to spend your day mourning quietly inside your individual habsuite. When he came to check on you, you were buried under soft blankets with your trembling arms wrapped tightly around your middle. He scooped you onto his lap, and with the gentlest words he could think of, he quietly comforted you. It took a while, but eventually, you managed to dislodge your head from his chest and look up at him with eyes clouded with tears and a watery smile. The relief he felt upon seeing it -- small and fragile and insecure as it was; so unlike you -- is something Megatron finds he cannot capture in words.

 

He writes of your smile as you slink around the  _ Lost Light _ unnoticed, causing more trouble than anyone would suspect you of. For someone so small, you can be a devious thing, and Megatron can’t help but find amusement in your “pranking endeavors”. You move around quietly and gracefully, wreaking havoc wherever you pass, feigning innocence as you go -- driving everyone mad completely anonymously. Your pupils are dilated and your gaze is fierce, but, as per the usual, those can’t compete against your slag-eating grin that’s wide and mischievous and spells trouble in all capitals. If only the other mechs could see that; their reactions would be priceless, but Megatron doesn’t want this game to end just yet.

 

He finds there are many more smiles to write about. Every single day, every little twist of your lips is different. You’re unreal. The adoration that swells in Megatron’s chest as he peers into those beautifully organic eyes is something he reckons he only felt once before -- when catching the optics of a pretty police officer decked in red and blue. But that’s the past, and it does Megatron no good to think about it. Besides, that officer never blessed him with shy smiles and breathless grins. But you? You’re something else. You’re small and foreign and angelical  and everything Megatron never thought he’d ever come to crave so desperately. You’re so wonderfully human. 

 

“Megs?” you call inquisitively. You’re sitting on his palm, peering at him curiously with a tiny grin that despite its inferior size still lights up your face. The nickname you call him is Rodimus’ damned creation, but it sounds affectionate and most definitely not annoying when coming from you.

 

“Yes, little one?” he rumbles back, brushing the thumb of his other hand along your hair. 

 

You lean into the touch and purr. “You just kinda faded into thought. Are you okay?”

 

“When I’m with you, I always am,” he replies honestly. An almost exhilarated flush fills your cheeks and you smile at him, soft and sweet and subtle -- and suddenly, Megatron knows with spark-deep certainty that this is the one he loves the most.


End file.
